


An Initiation, Of Sorts

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Mulan (1998)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1629959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happens all the time in the military. Mulan as Fa Ping/Shang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Initiation, Of Sorts

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Essa, Ainsi, and Taira for their very persistent encouragement and for betaing! :)
> 
> Written for Ali Wildgoose

 

 

The summons from his father elicited a sinking feeling in Shang's stomach the moment he saw it. Leaning his forehead in his palms, he read the letter one more time. His troops had survived training, sure, but they weren't _ready_ for the front lines. He wasn't sure what Ling would do in the face of a cannon, or how Yao would react were he injured. And what of Fa Ping? What if _he_ were injured? That was the last thing Shang wanted.

Shang found himself descending into a whirlwind of thought, all involving Fa. It wasn't new. In fact, lately it had been strangely common. Shang didn't know how he felt about it. Fa wasn't a bad guy--indeed he had proved himself quite the opposite. But it just wasn't-- _right_ to be thinking about one of his soldiers quite this much.

Was it?

Sighing, he called in a messenger. His troops had a right to know, of course: tomorrow morning, they would head out for battle.

~*~

"My feet are killing me," remarked Ling. He and his friends had appeared at Shang's side about ten minutes ago, chattering nervously with each other about all kinds of irrelevant things. Shang knew that it was a result of anxiety regarding the imminent battle they were to be a part of, so he made no reprimand.

That wasn't to say it wasn't a little annoying.

"Everyone's been marching just as long as you have, Ling," replied Shang serenely. "It is preparing us."

"We'll be exhausted by the time we get there," grumbled Yao. "We won't be able to fight."

"No," said Fa. "We'll have improved our endurance."

Shang caught Fa's eye and gave him a kind, grateful smile. Fa smiled back, almost shyly. It was not an expression Shang recalled having ever seen on a man's face, but it was enticing nonetheless.

"Fa Ping is right, men," Shang said. "We have grown strong and quick. Now we must learn how to endure."

"Sir, where is it, exactly, that we are headed?" asked Chien-Po politely. He was one of the sweeter men. Shang worried what war would do to his kind disposition.

Shang had learned that it was better to keep his troops unaware of their location. That way, if they should send a message to a loved one, they could honestly say they did not know where they were. Still, he did not enjoy lying to the loyal soldiers.

"We are headed for battle," he decided on saying. "That is all you need to know for now."

Chien-Po bowed his head. "I understand, sir. Thank you."

Next to him, Fa Ping bit his lip. "Do our families not know our whereabouts either?"

Shang shook his head. "How can we be sure that a man's family is not in contact with the enemy somehow? We must be careful."

Fa didn't look up but he copied Chien-Po's bow. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

Unhappy guilt dropped like a rock in Shang's stomach. He swallowed and offered kindly, "But they will be informed of our doings from time to time. Don't worry, Fa."

"Thank you," replied Fa. That shy expression was creeping back.

Shang swallowed again, for an entirely different reason.

~*~

It was much colder here in this part of China, and the tents were no good protection against the elements. The men had taken to sharing tents four or more-to-each, rather than the two-to-each they had been assigned. The only man not sharing a tent with anyone was the emperor's adviser, but as he had a small tent that wouldn't really fit extra people, and he was a selfish prick anyway, he didn't seem to mind.

Shang, for his part, had taken to sharing with Fa, Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po. They all proved to be very cozy, very loud tentmates, full of conversation and teasing. One night--five before the battle, he would later remember--at sundown, Shang came back to the tent to find it sans one very important member of the tent. Frowning, he went outside to find Fa Ping.

He found him sitting on a rock, some ways away from the camp.

"Fa!" Shang barked, hoping to scare Fa just a little bit.

It worked. Fa fell off his boulder. Shang laughed, not unkindly--or at least, he hoped it didn't sound unkind.

"You scared me," said Fa, sounding irritated, but Shang saw his mouth quirk up at the corners. He climbed back onto his perch. He patted the space next to him, motioning for Shang to join him. Shang did.

"I meant to," said Shang, chuckling still. "What are you doing out here, soldier?"

"I wasn't ready to go to sleep," replied Fa. "There were some things I needed to think about."

Shang raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I don't think I'm ready for battle. I'm scared."

"Everyone's scared the first time." Shang stopped and thought about the battles he had been in. It hadn't just been the first--he had had a nasty, dark feeling surging through his blood before, during, _and_ after every single one. He continued, "And the second, and the third. It never ends. Battle is not a pretty thing."

"But... to die for honor. That would be the best way to bring honor to my family, would it not?"

Shang looked at Fa. They were so close their noses were close to bumping. He could see stark fear in his eyes. And something else. Fa licked his lips and Shang saw him glance briefly at Shang's.

"There are other ways of bringing honor to your family," Shang said, his voice low. It came from the back of his throat. "Honesty, justice, integrity, strength in times of adversity--"

Suddenly, Fa was kissing him.

It was shocking, to be quite honest. This was not the kind of behavior a commander should be engaging in with one of his soldiers. But--at the same time--Fa's lips were soft and warm. His hands were curling in fists at the nape of Shang's neck. Shang couldn't help but return the kiss, touch for touch. Uncertainly, he pressed his tongue at the opening of Fa's lips, and to Shang's surprise Fa opened his mouth willingly.

It had been a long time since Shang had kissed anyone.

Fa was making amazing sounds, the kind of sounds Shang hadn't heard from any person in months--years, even. He drew his fingers along Fa's strangely smooth jaw and pressed them into the space behind his ear.

"Fa," whispered Shang.

Shang could feel the smile against his lips. "Call me Ping," he said. He pulled away. "Let's go back to the tent." His voice was huskier than Shang had ever heard it.

Shang shook his head. "No, that won't work," he replied, his voice just as quiet. "The others are there."

Slowly, Ping nodded. "Well, let me go get something. I'll be right back."

He sneaked away into the descending twilight, back towards camp. Shang watched him, thinking. He had heard stories of men doing things like this--doing things with _each other_ , behaving like lovers. It had always seemed strange and even a bit disgusting when he had heard it, but with Ping it seemed only natural. He was so effeminate Shang could almost pretend he was a woman--but did Shang want to pretend? If Ping was a woman, he wouldn't be Ping, would he? And Shang wouldn't want to do this with that other person.

Ping was back before Shang realized it. His figure approached hesitantly in the dark. There was a bag in his hand. "I'm back," he said unnecessarily. "Are you sure--is here all right?"

Shang shrugged. "It's as good as any other place, is it not?"

Ping grinned. "I guess you're right."

As if by force, Shang stood and made his way over to Ping. He touched his lips softly to both of his cheeks, then again to his lips. Shang could feel Ping's eyelashes flutter closed against his cheeks. Ping let the bag fall down by his feet.

Ping moved his mouth away from Shang's and licked his way up Shang's chin. Shang pulled off his own tunic before reaching one hand up and untied the cloth holding up Ping's hair, which fell down around his shoulders, longer than it had been when he had first joined the ranks.

"You should cut that," Shang whispered. "It's against regulations."

Ping pulled away from the embrace at that, taking the cloth from Shang's hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Sir," he said, biting his lip, "I'm just going to say you shouldn't be alarmed."

"Why would I be alarmed?" asked Shang, bewildered as he watched Ping move behind him. Ping was so much smaller than he was, and if he did anything unseemly, it could be called insubordination and Ping's reputation would be ruined. Not that Shang thought he would do anything along those lines--

Suddenly, he felt Ping's lips on his neck and the tie around his wrists.

"What--?"

Ping turned Shang's face and captured his lips with his own. "Shhh," he said. "Unless you want me to gag you, too." He paused. "Not that I would really gag you. I'd just make sure you couldn't talk."

"I," Shang began, at a loss for any other words, but at Ping's sweet, seductive smile, he closed his mouth.

"Thank you, sir," said Ping. He pressed his open mouth to the crook of Shang's neck before returning to the work of securing the tie around Shang's wrists--not that Shang could see him doing this. Ping came back in view and stood in front of him again, surveying his prisoner-for-the-moment. Shang reassured himself that he could escape at any moment. His wrists were tied, yes, but he wasn't secured _to_ anything, and anyway--he was the captain. Surely he was stronger and faster than one of his own men?

"Very nice," said Ping. "One thing, though."

Ping fell to his knees in front of Shang and began untying the belt holding up his trousers. He pulled those down, too, and looked up at Shang through long eyelashes. Shang looked back down, feeling as if he couldn't breathe. He could tell himself it was only Ping, but the man who was putting his mouth-- _there_ \--was certainly different from the shy, clumsy soldier Shang had come to know.

Shang--to his own surprise--didn't think he was too unhappy about that.

Ping moved his mouth down both of Shang's hipbones, and then back up to his navel, and then back down to the skin just at the fold between one leg, and then at the other. He pressed his mouth everywhere except for where Shang wanted it most. He whined a little, unwilling to speak again.

"I'm not quite there yet, sir," explained Ping, mischief in his voice. "You understand."

"Um," replied Shang. He had more to say but was interrupted by Ping biting the skin of his thigh by way of chastisement.

Ping licked at the bitemark, as if to soothe the pain, which had already disappeared. Then, still on his knees, he moved his lips across Shang's thigh and along his buttock until he was behind him again.

And then Shang _really_ wanted to say something. He didn't; he did, however, look behind him. Ping gazed up at him, pulling back and resting all his weight on his heels. "Is there a problem, sir?" He reached for the bag in front of Shang's feet. Shang realized for the first time that Ping was still fully dressed. He shook his head.

"I thought not," said Ping. He pulled something out of the bag--something long, thick, and dark. Ping was coating it and his own fingers with something sticky and wet.

Shang licked his lips.

"Now, sir," Ping said. It sounded like he was much more in control than Shang was. Which wasn't true, right? Shang could stop this any moment. Ping pushed a finger into Shang, making him bite his lip to keep in the shout he wanted to make.

Well, this was new. As Ping worked his fingers, adding another and then another, making three, Shang began to enjoy it. New and interesting. It wasn't as painful as he might have expected it to be, although he did have to keep his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip in between his teeth. Otherwise he would have made a sound that surely would have alerted the troops to his whereabouts--and possibly to his activities.

Suddenly there was something new pushing against Shang. "What--?"

"Quiet, sir," hissed Shang.

Shang looked behind himself, and saw the long, sleek, black thing. Ping raised his eyebrows, as if in a challenge. Shang frowned back, accepting the challenge and making one of his own. Ping pushed it in farther, and Shang grunted.

"It doesn't hurt, does it, captain?"

Shang shook his head quickly.

"Good." He continued, going deeper and deeper. Shang continued to grunt and screwed his eyes shut again against the pain--pleasure? He wasn't quite certain. In a way, it was both. All the while, Ping was pressing kiss after kiss to as much of Shang's skin as he could reach. Soon, Ping reached around to Shang's front and wrapped his hand around him, moving his hand up and down.

Shang tried to hold out, but he was drowning in pure sensation. It just wasn't possible to last too long. With another, longer grunt, Shang came all over Ping's fingers. Ping kept moving his hand until Shang's entire body stopped convulsing, and then pulled the long thing out. He made a face as he wiped it on his tunic, but then smiled up at Shang.

Shang grinned back down. He wanted to go somewhere and sleep. His entire body felt like it would melt down into a puddle at any moment.

Standing, Ping bowed. "Thank you so much, sir."

"I--it was my pleasure, Fa."

"Ping."

"All right. Ping. Stand, soldier."

Ping stood straight.

Shang looked directly into his eyes. "Call me Shang."

Ping nodded. "Let's go back to the tent," he suggested, gathering his things back into his bag.

"All right," agreed Shang. "But first--" He leaned down and gave Ping one last, long, passionate kiss, putting into it all of the courage he hoped Ping would have when they finally faced battle, throwing in all the strange feelings that had been building in Shang's heart since Ping had first marched into the base, moving in that strange, forced way of his.

Ping seemed dazed when Shang finally pulled away. "Thank you, si--Shang."

"No need to thank me," said Shang. "Let's go."

~*~

When they had settled back into the tent and Shang was falling prey to the warm, heavy, sweet feeling that had taken over his body since he'd been in the woods, he heard rustling near him, among Yao's snores and Chien-Po's heavy breathing. The rustling was followed by a muffled, frustrated sound, followed by a strange moan that sounded almost female if Shang hadn't known better.

He was too tired to glance over, but the image that came into his head was just as good as the real thing. It made him want to have another try with Ping--and this time, he was going to get Ping to take off his clothes. 

 


End file.
